Julia+Hartman+Letter+of+Introduction

December 2009

Dear Reader,

I entered Fordham this fall a flustered mess. The school year had just begun, and that’s always a stressful time. My principal had just quit and I had to shoulder extra responsibilities at school. My personal and academic lives were in upheaval and the only two classes that fit into my schedule were Foundations of Adolescent Literacy and Assessing and Developing Adolescent Literacy in English Language Arts. What was I supposed to do with that? Literacy? What does that even mean?

Though I have been teaching for five years, I cannot say with confidence that I know how to teach. I often feel like I’m winging it in class or that I’m making things up. I don’t usually invent new parts of speech, but my activities usually spring, fully formed, from my crowded mind. Imagine my relief when Dr. George required a book called __Strategies that Work__ and Dr. Turner’s book list included books that chronicle real experiences and grammar discussion. Finally!

It’s not that easy, though. You can’t just pick up those books and become a good teacher. The lesson plans do not work if you do not think them through, if you do not have an idea of yourself, as a teacher, and an idea of what you believe about literacy (that word again).

What do I believe? Despite a semester’s worth of work and reflection, I cannot confidently say that I know. I am confident, however, in saying that I know where to start thinking. Before this year, I did not think about the different Englishes in my classroom. I had taken a course in how to reach English language learners, and certainly that applies, but I hadn’t given much thought to my student’s English. What is an error? What happens when I say “wrong” and “right” in class? I am careful with my language now, because language, all language, affects learning and my attitudes toward language directly affect my class.

Each student in my class has her own discourse. Each student comes from a different place, has had different experiences, has been exposed to different sources of language. They understand it, but it had to be hammered into my own head. This is difference, not deficit. There are many times that I have marveled at the poetic qualities in my students’ language. I realize that I need to take this wonder further. How can you teach without thinking, without reflecting? You can’t.

That's what I was doing.

I’ve let non Standard English into my class this year. Teachers passing by may think that I’ve lost control, or that I just don’t care. They’re wrong. It is precisely because I do care and because I have started to give my students the tools they need to really use their discourses that I can let them explore their languages, their poetry.

I’ve had to bridge my own gap, of knowledge, understanding and even simple awareness, in order to begin to bring my students’ over their various gaps. I’ve come to realize that we need to build bridges over these supposed “language gaps” because it is not possible for a student to super-humanly leap across. If the student builds a bridge, she will be able to move back and forth, to switch between discourses.

So, while I am no where near the end of my journey, I am not a fully formed teacher yet, I do feel that I have a foundation, a foundation for my understanding of adolescent literacy (ah ha!) I know that I want my students to succeed. I believe that Standard English is an important tool that my students can use to achieve their own success. I believe that, in order for a student to be fluent in Standard English, she must work from one side and I must work from the other to build a bridge. If she is to work, she must be motivated so I believe that Standard English must be appealing to students.

Am I a motivational speaker? A saleswoman? Perhaps. I play different roles for different students. I am sure that I will take on more roles as my career continues. I want to be a good teacher, and now I know that I must continue learning; I can never stop. My students will change; I must as well.

Enjoy my journey,

Julia